


Seeking: pet carer for Bartholomew (four-year old rescue greyhound, no special needs)

by GallifreyisBurning



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (in basically any way), Alternate Universe - Muggle, Anal Sex, Blaise Zabini (mentioned) - Freeform, Dog Carer Harry Potter, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, HP Fluff Fest 2020, Lawyer Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood (Mentioned) - Freeform, M/M, Mentions of Canonical Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), No Angst, Not Canon Compliant, Oblivious Draco Malfoy, Past Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini, Pet Ownership - Freeform, Pomona Sprout (mentioned) - Freeform, Running, Shower Sex, There's nothing unethical at all I swear, but I promise there's no power dynamic involved in their relationship, harry works for draco, just read it you'll see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26049031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyisBurning/pseuds/GallifreyisBurning
Summary: When Draco’s boyfriend ends their relationship rather abruptly (and, frankly, extremely rudely), he leaves Draco with full-time responsibility for their rescue greyhound, Bartholomew. Draco loves his dog with all his heart, but the long hours he works at his law firm mean that he can’t possibly be home as much as Bartholomew needs. Enter Sirius Pet Care, an app designed to solve this very problem! When Draco books Harry, he’s relieved at how quickly the man and his dog bond. He’s less relieved by how unexpectedly, distractingly attractive Harry turns out to be… and how Draco’s afternoon meetings keep being “mysteriously” cancelled, meaning that he JUST HAPPENS to be home when Harry comes by. After all, it’s not appropriate to ogle one’s employees… right?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 37
Kudos: 475
Collections: HP Fluff Fest 2020





	Seeking: pet carer for Bartholomew (four-year old rescue greyhound, no special needs)

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt #74:** Muggle AU! Draco is a busy working professional and uses an app to hire someone to walk his dog for him. ...He didn't think about how cute the guy would be. Or how much his dog would love his new friend.
> 
> **For HP Fluff Fest 2020**
> 
> I was completely enamored of this prompt from [VeelaWings ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/veelawings) as soon as I saw it, but spent a long time stuck in my own head to make it happen! In the end, though, I’m very pleased with how the whole thing came out. I hope you are, too!

_August 31, 2015_

“Bye, Mr. Malfoy! Bye, Bartholomew! I’ll miss you!” 

Gwen, Draco’s 13-year-old neighbor, gave the greyhound a final scritch behind the ears before waving at the pair and skipping down the stairs of Draco’s townhouse. Draco waved at the girl as she headed back towards her family’s home, off to finish packing for her departure to her boarding school the next day. Once she disappeared behind her own door, Draco ran a hand down his face and sighed. Bartholomew looked up at him with sad, round eyes, and Draco sighed again before leaning down to ruffle his ears. “I know, boy,” he said, “I’ll miss her, too.” He would also miss her dog walking services, he thought wryly.

Gwen had been keeping Bartholomew company all summer, having arrived home from school shortly before Blaise had taken off for a photo shoot in Milan and never returned. He’d sent Draco a postcard saying that he had been approached by an agency in New York that wanted him to relocate, and thus had ended a three-year relationship and two years of living together. Draco thought it probably said a lot about the state of said relationship that he was more upset on Bartholomew’s account than his own, but it was still a rather ignominious way to be dumped.

Blaise and Draco had adopted Bartholomew together just over a year ago. He was a rescue greyhound—shy and loyal and sweet. Draco had loved him immediately, and as Blaise had been home most of the time due to the sporadic nature of his modeling work, the dog’s need for constant companionship hadn’t been a problem. With Blaise gone, however, Draco was at loose ends; his law firm was small but thriving, and he worked long, exhausting hours. Gwen had been a fantastic stopgap measure, but now Draco had to face the truth: he needed professional dog care, and fast.

Taking Bartholomew back inside, he grumbled as he skimmed through his old emails, trying to find the one that his assistant, Pansy, had sent with information on a dog walking app that she recommended. “Stop being so dramatic,” she had berated him when he’d begun a tirade about leaving his pet with an untrained, unvetted stranger. “All the people have reviews and things; you can pick someone who other people have vouched for. Besides, it’s taking care of a dog, not brain surgery.” 

Although Draco had protested that greyhounds had _very specific needs_ and that Bartholomew needed _the very best care_ , after allowing a young teen to take care of him for several months, Draco had to admit that Bartholomew would probably be fine with an agency walker, no matter his personal reservations. Finally, he found the email, and begrudgingly clicked the link to the app store to download _Sirius Pet Care._ He hated the pun, but he had to admit that the celestial reference appealed to him just a little, given his own name. 

After filling out a brief pet profile ( _Bartholomew, 4-year-old male rescue greyhound, neutered, all vaccinations up to date, no special needs)_ and entering their needs into a form ( _Mid-day visits, early evening walks or runs, Monday through Friday with occasional weekends)_ , Draco was finally presented with a list of available carers. The profiles were fairly comprehensive; each had a small photo, a first name, a list of services and prices, a short personal bio, a star rating, and reviews from past clients. 

Draco grimaced as he read through the listings, managing to find fault with every person he clicked through to. Some were too cutesy ( _“I love fur babies of every shape and size! I provide endless cuddles and kisses to your pooches, and can’t wait to be their new bestest friend!”)_ while others sounded far too impersonal ( _Professional dog carer, three years experience, available for walks, meal visits, and temporary boarding on a case-by-case basis)_. Greyhounds needed attention and affection, but they also took time to warm up to new people; he didn’t want Bartholomew to feel stifled or ignored. He felt a bit like Goldilocks, looking for the perfect fit, but Bartholomew was important to him and he wanted to find a carer who was _just right._

After scrolling through a dozen or so unimpressive profiles, Draco finally found one that sounded like it might be a good fit. The man’s name was Harry, and his profile picture was nothing but a wild mop of hair and a glint of glasses silhouetted against a brilliant sunset. His bio, however, sounded perfect: “ _I like good company, whether from animals or people. I’m a distance runner, and love to bring a friend along! I’ve been dog sitting professionally since 2014 and for friends on and off since 2006.”_ The man’s availability was almost entirely open, his rates were reasonable, and although he’d only been active on the app for just over a year, he had a slew of five-star ratings and rave reviews commenting on his friendliness and professionalism. 

Not allowing himself to overthink it, Draco went ahead and put in a request to book Harry through the end of the week, figuring that four days would be enough time to see if Bartholomew was happy in his care. He requested that, if available to take the job, the man come by the next morning to collect the key before Draco left for work. He got a message on the app within minutes: 

“ _I’d love to take care of Bartholomew for the week! I’ve got a soft spot for greyhounds. Unfortunately, my godson leaves for school tomorrow morning, and I promised I’d take him to the train station. Would you be okay with my friend Neville coming by to collect the key for me? If so, let me know, and I’ll block out the week for you. Thanks!”_

Draco wasn’t thrilled with the prospect, but he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, before deciding that—based on his glowing reviews—it was unlikely that the man planned to pull a bait and switch or steal his dog. _“That would be fine. I’ll show Neville where everything is, but please feel free to message me if I leave anything out.”_ He then proceeded to send a detailed list of all of Bartholomew’s likes and dislikes, habits, neuroses, favorite places, and everything else that he could think of. He knew he was probably coming off as overbearing, but he couldn’t help himself. He loved his dog, and wanted to make sure he was happy. He was relieved, therefore, when the short message he got back maintained the cheerful tone of Harry’s previous message.

“ _Sounds great! Can’t wait to meet him.”_

~~~~~▼(´ᴥ`)▼~~~~~

The next morning at eight o’clock on the dot, there was a polite knock on Draco’s door. Bartholomew raised his head in interest from where he was curled up in his luxurious dog bed, but made no move to get up. Draco had taken him for a long run earlier, as was his usual morning routine, and Bartholomew almost always settled in for a post-run nap afterward. Although he was obviously curious about their early visitor, it evidently wasn’t enough to rouse him from his cosy nest.

Draco opened the door to a cheerful, round-faced man who looked to be around his own age—29—with tousled light brown hair and a friendly smile. “Hello!” the man greeted him, “Are you Draco?” When Draco confirmed his identity, the man went on. “Great. I’m Neville; Harry asked me to stop by and collect your key for him?”

“Lovely to meet you, Neville. Please, come in.” With a wave, Draco beckoned for Neville to follow him inside. “I’ve sent Harry a list of important information, but I’d like to show you where a few things are, if that’s okay. I assume you’ll be able to show Harry?”

“Yeah, no problem. The nursery I work at is only a few blocks from here; I can come meet him when he’s done with Teddy and catch him up.”

Thinking through the shops within walking distance, Draco quickly remembered a slightly weathered but welcoming sign in front of a window full of exotic plants. “Do you work at Sprouts, then?”

Neville gave a nod, but then followed it up with a bit of a half shrug. “Well, actually, I run the store and gardens; Harry’s always telling me not to undersell myself, but I really do just think of myself as working there. Pomona, the owner, was a bit of a mentor while I was doing my botany course, and she hired me to run the place when she retired.”

Draco raised an impressed eyebrow. “You must have made quite an impression, then. From what I’ve seen you’ve got an impressively wide range of plants to care for.”

Neville grinned. “One of the widest selections of exotics, medicinals, and hybrids in the UK,” he said proudly. He seemed as though he was about to go on, but then laughed. “I could talk about it all day, but honestly, you should probably show me what you need Harry to know so that I can get back. We open early, and I’ve left it under my assistant’s care for the time being. He’s a good kid, but I’d rather not tempt fate by staying away too long.”

“I’ll endeavor to be quick, then,” Draco assured him. In actuality, because of the detailed instructions he’d sent to Harry, there wasn’t much that he needed to show Neville. He gave him a tour of the townhouse, pointed out where food, treats, toys, and leash were stored, as well as Bartholomew’s collection of designer jumpers for when colder weather hit (and which Neville did an admirable job of not commenting on, although he was clearly biting his lip to keep himself from laughing), and finally, showed him the range of commands that Bartholomew had been trained to obey. The greyhound was wary of the newcomer, but still obediently ran through his basic routine of “sit,” “stay,” “come,” “down,” and, because it had tickled his and Blaise’s fancy once upon a time, “pose,” at which Bartholomew lay down on the floor, paws crossed in front of him, and tilted his head, very obviously posing to show off his best angles.

“Well, that’s a new one,” Neville commented with a snort. 

Draco smirked. “What can I say? He’s very photogenic.” Handing his spare key over to the other man, Draco walked him to the door. “Thank you for handling this. Please let Harry know that if he has any questions, he need only contact me.”

“Will do,” Neville assured him. “It was nice meeting you, Draco.”

“You as well,” Draco agreed. Once the other man had descended the stairs, he closed the door behind him and finished readying himself for work. If this Harry was a friend of Neville’s, he was probably an alright sort, he reasoned to himself. This should be completely fine.

~~~~~▼(´ᴥ`)▼~~~~~

By the time Draco had arrived at his office, his complacency had completely gone, replaced with a niggling fear that something was going to go horribly awry. He was fidgety and unfocused, checking his phone every few minutes to see if he had a message on _Sirius Pet Care_ from Harry. By the time 11 o’clock rolled around, Pansy looked about ready to confiscate his phone and chuck it out the window of his tenth floor office.

“Draco, pull yourself together!” she snapped after he asked her to repeat her notes on his most recent case for the third time. “Didn’t you say the carer isn’t even supposed to go by before midday? What’s the point of you paying someone to take care of your dog if you’re still going to spend all day fretting about him and not getting any work done?”

Draco sighed, resisting the urge to run his hands through his neatly coiffed hair. “I can’t help it! I’ve never left Bartholomew with a stranger before. What if he thinks I’ve abandoned him? What if this Harry is awful? What if they hate each other? What if he hurts him?!”

“Oh please. Bartholomew is a smart dog, he knows you’ll be home later. And you said yourself that this bloke had great reviews; how bad could he be?”

“He could have bribed people to fake them,” Draco countered.

Pansy raised an impeccably-manicured and disdainful eyebrow. “You think someone who walks dogs for a living has the resources to bribe people to write him fake reviews on a dog walking app. And would be willing to do so, in order to book gigs at £20 per day. So that he can hurt dogs?” Draco glared, and Pansy rolled her eyes. “If you’re so concerned, message him in a couple hours to ask whether he got everything from his friend alright, and if he has any questions. For now, though, _fucking focus!”_

“ _Fine_ ,” Draco capitulated with ill grace, setting his phone down on his desk (although purposely keeping the screen face up, just in case). Taking a deep breath in an attempt to clear his mind, he focused back on Pansy. “Right. Start from the beginning.” Pansy grumbled but did as she was told.

Draco never got a chance to message Harry, as it turned out; it was just after noon when his phone vibrated, and Draco snatched it off his desk to check his notifications, earning an exasperated sound from Pansy, who was still prepping him for his first afternoon meeting. Clicking the notification, he opened the SPC app and was promptly shown a photo of Bartholomew sitting on a patch of dirt looking happily up at the camera, tongue lolling out. 

_“Just checking in! Neville showed me everything we’ll need; no questions so far. Bart just finished his lunch, and I’ve taken him to the dog park for a bit. We’re getting along great! He’s not showing much interest in the other dogs here, but he seems to be enjoying just being out for a bit.”_

Letting out a relieved sigh, Draco reread the message and then grimaced. _“I’m glad to hear it’s going well,”_ he typed. “ _BARTHOLOMEW doesn’t usually warm up to people very quickly, so I’m delighted to hear that you’re getting along. Please do ask if anything comes up.”_

 _“Will do!”_ came the quick response. 

Setting his phone back down, Draco looked up at Pansy. “Go on, I’m listening,” he instructed her. Grumbling under her breath again, she did so, and the rest of the day progressed without incident.

Draco arrived home just after nine in the evening and was greeted at the door by Bartholomew, who was happily wagging his tail.

“Did you have a good day, then, Bartholomew?” he asked, leaning down to scratch his pet in greeting. “Did you like Harry? He seemed to like you.” The lithe canine turned his head and licked his owner’s hand affectionately, making Draco laugh. “Come on then, let’s get you a snack and me some supper, and we can watch a bit of television before bed.”

Walking into his kitchen, a space which he had carefully designed but sadly rarely got a chance to use these days, Draco headed toward the refrigerator only to notice a piece of note paper on the counter. Picking it up, he read the untidy scrawl and found himself smiling in amusement. 

_“Hi Draco!_

_Just wanted to catch you up on Bart’s day. (And yes, I noticed your emphasis on his full name, but I just can’t bring myself to use such a stodgy name for such a friendly dog!) We stayed at the dog park until one or so before I brought him home. It took him a while to warm up, like I said, but eventually he made friends with a lovely King Charles Spaniel, whose owner (a friendly older man I quite liked!) lives the next block over from you. It was quite hard to separate the two when we had to go!_

_We also went for a half hour walk at about 6:00, on which he very patiently allowed two young girls to pat him and attempted to chase at least four squirrels. Thank goodness I’ve plenty of practice wrestling my godson, or I wouldn’t have been able to keep him in check! He’s rather strong for being so delicate looking._

_SPC only requires me to send one update per day, but if you’d like me to send more pictures, let me know—Bart is really quite photogenic, even without the “trick” that you showed Neville. I’m looking forward to spending more time with him tomorrow!_

_H”_

The unexpected detail of the update, as well as Harry’s evident enjoyment of the day, loosened a knot Draco hadn’t been aware was still sitting in his chest. Perhaps this would work out after all.

~~~~~▼(´ᴥ`)▼~~~~~

The next three days went about the same as Tuesday, as far as Draco’s experiences with his new dog carer went. During their midday visit, Harry would send several pictures of Bartholomew at the dog park and share a brief update on how things were going (Draco had been unable to resist the offer of more photos, and although Pansy had rolled her eyes at him, he had no regrets). When he arrived home after work, he was greeted by a happy dog and an entertaining and cheeky note outlining Harry and Bartholomew’s evening walk and giving more details on their earlier adventures. 

By the weekend, Draco was more than comfortable about the idea of keeping Harry in his employ, and wasted no time in messaging to ask the other man if he’d be available on an ongoing basis. To his delight, Harry agreed almost immediately and with obvious enthusiasm. Setting up his request in the SPC calendar through the end of October, which was as far as Harry’s booking calendar went, Draco spent a bit of time spoiling Bartholomew rotten and then went to bed feeling relieved to have so quickly solved his dog care dilemma. 

~~~~~▼(´ᴥ`)▼~~~~~

_September 18, 2015_

With a sense of exhausted relief, Draco slipped out of his gleaming black brogues and pristinely tailored suit jacket and collapsed onto his sofa. In a miraculous turn of events, his Friday afternoon meeting had been rescheduled last minute due to an unexpected family emergency on his client’s part. Draco didn’t know what the details of the emergency were, and he tried his best not to think on it, wanting to thoroughly enjoy his afternoon off without worrying about the misfortune of others. He didn’t, in general, think of himself as a callous man, but he also hadn’t been home by three in the afternoon on a weekday since, in all likelihood, his university days. 

Wiggling his toes happily in his plush carpet, another interior design choice that he had spent ages debating and very little time actively enjoying since, he patted the cushion next to him, inviting Bartholomew to join him. People always expected him to be fussy about his furniture, but in truth, although Draco did tend to buy the best of everything, he wasn’t completely neurotic about it once it was home. At least, not when it came to Bartholomew; he was incapable of denying his pet anything—certainly not a seat on a comfy couch. Draco rested his head against the back of the sofa, petting Bartholomew’s head absentmindedly as the dog rested it contentedly on his lap, and debated what to do with his unanticipated evening off. He was seriously contemplating an evening in front of his fireplace with a good mystery and a better scotch when he abruptly remembered a standing occasion that he hadn’t managed to attend more than once since Blaise had left. 

Ever since they’d finished secondary school and taken different professional paths, his school friends and he had tried to meet up on Fridays whenever possible to have a few drinks and catch up. When they’d still been together, Blaise—who had also been a schoolmate—had done a good job of dragging Draco out of his office in time for at least a few rounds almost every week. Once he’d left, however, Draco had had a hard time forcing himself to attend. At first, it had been because he was humiliated and didn’t want to face their pity; Pansy had hauled him along once, and it had been truly awful, full of awkward pauses and aborted sentences. Then, it had been the fact that he had buried himself in work to make up for his lack of romantic companionship. Now, he had to admit, he was just used to it. 

Glad to have decided to be social for once, Draco resolved to do his reading now in order to enjoy the best of both worlds. Opening up the battered Agatha Christie paperback that had been waiting for him on his side table, Draco curled up in the corner of his comfortable sofa and began to read.

He woke, what felt like seconds later, to the uncomfortable sensation of dog paws digging into his midsection and the sound of someone keying into his apartment. A jolt of panicked adrenaline rushed through his bloodstream and he sat up fast as his door swung open and Bartholomew eagerly dashed to the door, immediately standing up on his hind legs to greet the person who entered.

“Hey, Bar— oh!” came the surprised voice of the man standing in Draco’s doorway as he looked up to see Draco’s likely panicked and sleep-creased face. “I’m so sorry! Are you Draco?” His eyes met Draco’s with interest as he petted Bartholomew in greeting absentmindedly. “Hey, down boy,” he addressed the dog, who continued to excitedly paw at the man, tongue lolling happily as he circled his legs and attempted to stand up against his chest once more. Letting out a huff at the quiet command, Bartholomew settled at the man’s feet, resting his head on his paws.

Draco, still a bit shocked but beginning to steady as reality sank in and he realized this must be Harry, nodded and cleared his throat. “No, I’m sorry,” he said, voice a bit gravelly from sleep. Then, at the confused look on the other man’s face, he rethought his last statement, swept a hand through his tangled hair, and clarified. “I mean, yes, I am Draco. But I doubt you have anything to be sorry for. You’re Harry, I assume?”

The man gave a relieved grin. It was, Draco thought blearily, rather stunning, actually. Wide, genuine, and a little crooked, it caused his eyes to crinkle welcomingly behind his thin-framed round glasses. “Yeah, that’s me,” he said. “And I’m sorry for startling you. I didn’t expect anyone to be here.”

“Yes, no, I…” Draco trailed off. His brain was still trying to catch up with his sudden wakefulness, and all he could process as his eyes adjusted was that Harry was _fit._ Just, ridiculously, unfairly attractive. His hair was black and wild—a wavy, windswept mess that haloed his head, with the longest parts in the back just brushing his shoulders. He had a lovely tan that spoke of many hours spent outdoors, with a charming spray of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He wasn’t particularly tall, probably a few inches shorter than Draco himself, but with an athletic build that could be seen in the way his worn jeans fit his muscled legs and his t-shirt stretched across his toned chest under the loose flannel that he wore open over it. His canvas trainers had clearly seen better days. It was obvious that he was dressed for comfort, not for show, and yet somehow, the overall effect was… disturbingly appealing. 

Shaking his head, realizing that Harry was waiting for him to finish his sentence, Draco laughed at himself awkwardly. “Sorry, still a bit asleep,” he excused himself. “I’m not usually home this early; I had a meeting cancelled. I should have let you know. I didn’t intend to nap. What time is it, anyway?”

Harry glanced at his watch and smiled again as he looked back up to meet Draco’s eyes. “Just a few minutes past six,” he answered. 

“Shit,” Draco said, immediately feeling more alert. “God, I lost hours. Ah well, I suppose I should get up now anyway, so I can take Bartholomew out myself. I’m so sorry for wasting your time. I’ll still pay you, of course.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” Harry answered, sounding taken aback and a bit awkward, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I mean, it’s not a big deal, and you don’t need to pay me if I’m not doing the job.”

“Of course I do,” Draco argued. “You took the time out of your day and came out here from… wherever you live. I insist. And it all happens through the app anyway; it would be more convenient just to pay you than to try to figure out how to cancel the walk retroactively.”

“No, really—” Harry attempted, but Draco cut him off.

“I insist.”

Harry raised his eyebrows and snorted in amusement. “You’re pretty used to getting your way, aren’t you?”

“Well, I _am_ a lawyer,” Draco answered, smirking a bit. “I argue for a living, and I _don’t_ take no for an answer. Not when I know I’m right.”

“You must be just delightful at parties,” Harry said, eyes twinkling.

“Obviously,” Draco drawled, raising an eyebrow of his own playfully. “So, that settles that. You’re getting paid. Enjoy your unexpected free evening.”

“Oh, right,” Harry answered, and Draco could have sworn his face dropped slightly. “I’ll just be off then. See you on Monday, buddy,” he said, this time addressing Bartholomew, leaning over and ruffling his ears affectionately. As he went to open the door, however, the dog whined at him pitifully. “Don’t be silly, Bart,” Harry playfully scolded him, “your dad will take you out, you’ll still get your walk!” He attempted again to leave, but Bartholomew stood, placing himself between Harry and the door and whining again, looking up at the man with large, begging eyes. 

“Bartholomew, let poor Harry go,” Draco called to the dog from his spot on the sofa. His pet gave him an accusatory stare and huffed, but didn’t move from the door. “Really?” Draco questioned exasperatedly. Looking up at Harry apologetically, he addressed the man. “He seems to have grown rather fond of you. I’d say you should be flattered, but I’m afraid I’ve spoiled him terribly, and he’s… a bit used to getting his own way at this point.”

Harry laughed. “Well, loved pets _should_ be spoiled,” he opined. “And anyway, I’m rather fond of him, too.”

“I don’t suppose you’d want to join us on our walk?” Draco found himself asking, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I’m afraid he’s going to pout for the rest of the night if you don’t. I hate to bother you, though, if you’ve got other plans,” he rushed on, completely forgetting that of course Harry didn’t have other plans, if he’d expected to spend an hour with Bartholomew.

Luckily, Draco didn’t have much time to doubt his impulsive request, as Harry’s face immediately lit back up. “Honestly, I’d love that,” he answered. “That is, if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Draco said, relieved. “Just let me change into something less rumpled and we can head out.”

It only took a few minutes for Draco to change into a pair of slim cut, dark washed jeans and a fresh button up with his most comfortable oxfords before he was ready to go. Harry had already gotten Bartholomew leashed and ready, so without any further fanfare, the trio headed out into the late afternoon light. It was a pleasant temperature and only a little overcast, and Draco took a deep breath, enjoying being out before the sun went down for once. He really did work too much, he thought, feeling wistful, and also a tad guilty for some reason. He’d missed most of the fine late summer and early autumn weather already, and it would be chilly and dreary again before he knew it. He made a mental note to spend as much time outdoors with Bartholomew over upcoming weekends as he could manage.

As they walked, Bartholomew happily trotting between them except for his occasional mad dash after a squirrel or bird or pause to explore an interesting scent, Draco and Harry chatted about pets in general and Bartholomew in particular. 

“I’m sorry if this is a rude question,” Harry asked after they’d been conversing for ten minutes or so, “but why did you choose to adopt a greyhound when you work such long hours? You obviously love Bart very much, but they’re such a social breed. Have you always used a dog carer for him?”

Draco smirked, glancing at Harry. “The only rude thing is your insistence on butchering poor Bartholomew’s name,” he drawled, before taking a more serious tone. “But to answer your question, no, I haven’t always used a carer. When I adopted him, I lived with my partner, who was a model and was home during the day most of the time. My parents had greyhounds back at our estate in Wiltshire, so I’ve always had a soft spot for them. Unfortunately, my relationship ended rather unexpectedly, and my job just doesn’t allow me to be home as much as I would need to for Bartholomew not to get lonely.”

“Oh, sorry,” Harry answered, looking a bit awkward. “I didn’t mean to bring up anything painful, I was just curious. I’m a bit too nosy for my own good sometimes.”

“It’s perfectly alright,” Draco assured him. “It’s been months, and even though he handled it poorly, I think my ex’s and my relationship had run its course. And I don’t really blame him for leaving.”

“Poorly how?” Harry asked, before blushing. “Oh goddammit, I’m sorry! I can’t seem to stop myself!!”

Draco laughed. “Again, it’s fine. He sent a postcard, if you’ll believe it.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding!”

“Sadly, I am not. He went away for a modeling gig, was offered a contract in America, and just… never came back. I had to ship his clothes and things to him.”

“Wow,” Harry said, sounding shocked. “Dick move. Sorry, mate.” Draco shrugged, and then fell silent for a few moments. “You know,” Harry said eventually, sounding thoughtful, “my friend designs menswear. I wonder if she’s ever used your ex as a model. What’s his name?”

“Blaise.” 

Harry stopped in his tracks. “Blaise _Zabini?_ ” he asked incredulously. Looking back at the other man curiously, Draco nodded. “Holy shit,” Harry went on. “Yeah, Luna’s used him. He’s gorgeous.” Draco raised an eyebrow and Harry’s eyes went wide. “Oh my god, I’m _sorry!_ Severe flare up of foot-in-mouth disease today. I meant, he’s hideous, and you’re much better off?”

At this, Draco let out a bark of surprised laughter. “I’ll take it as a compliment,” he said with a smile. “I have excellent taste in men. Well... aesthetically, anyway,” he added wryly.

Harry smiled in relief, but rubbed a hand through his mop of hair. “Let’s talk about something else,” he said decisively. “Do you follow football?” And with that, they left behind the awkward conversation of attractive ex-boyfriends for a much more lively debate over which teams they supported. Their very different opinions led to a great deal of good-natured bickering, and by the time they finally arrived back at Draco’s townhome, Draco felt like he’d known Harry for much longer than a single afternoon. Harry was all smiles when he departed, thanking Draco for asking him along as though he hadn’t been doing Draco a massive favor, and as Draco closed the door behind him he realized that, in the course of the last hour, he’d somehow ended up completely smitten.

~~~~~▼(´ᴥ`)▼~~~~~

Draco was already gathering his wallet and keys to head to the bar to meet his friends when he received a text from Pansy. 

“ _Since I got you out of the office early today, I fully expect you to be at the drinks catch-up!”_

Draco smiled at his phone fondly. “ _Relax, you pushy bint, I’m already on my way.”_ Sliding his phone into his jeans pocket, he headed for the nearest tube station.

The place he and his friends favored was an unprepossessing wine bar called Slytherin that was a perfect compromise between a pub and an upscale cocktail lounge where they could hear themselves over the music but didn’t have to meet any sort of dress code. Pansy and Draco always appreciated the chance to change out of their professional wear, while Greg, who worked in home renovation, and Theo, who was a chemical engineering professor and researcher, enjoyed the chance to dress up just a little. Daphne, who was a stay-at-home mother, was generally just relieved to leave her children with her husband for a few hours. 

“I love them dearly,” she’d once told Draco confidentially when she was a couple glasses in, “but sometimes I need a chance to talk about something other than their current boy band obsessions or what phones their classmates have and how I’m depriving them by not buying them the latest tech the moment it comes out. They’re fucking exhausting sometimes, honestly.” Draco had patted her shoulder sympathetically and renewed his vow to himself that if he did eventually decide to have children, he would do so with a partner who was _very_ eager to be the primary caregiver.

When Draco arrived, he was greeted with an enthusiastic hug from Daphne, a solid slap on the back from Greg that nearly made him lose his balance, and a wave from Theo, who remained seated in the back of the curving booth the group had secured in a corner of the bar. Pansy merely raised an eyebrow at him before telling him it was about time he got his antisocial arse out of the house. Draco rolled his eyes at her before settling himself in and ordering a glass of Malbec from the server who had appeared quietly at the table. 

After exchanging greetings, they quickly fell into familiar conversation, with everyone talking about their weeks and giving quick updates to Draco on things he’d missed over the summer. He learned about the property Greg had acquired a few weeks ago, thinking it would be an easy flip, only to discover that the foundations were rotting. Daphne told them about her older daughter’s new obsession with Star Wars, while Theo told an entertaining story about one of his more inept students causing a minor explosion that burned off their eyebrows. “No long-term harm done,” Theo told them with a grin, “but they do look perpetually surprised.” Soon, however, the group turned their attention to Draco.

“You look well,” Daphne told him, giving him a clinical once over. “The way Pansy talks about you, I assumed you’d look worn to the bone, what with the hours you work.”

“Worried about me, Pans?” Draco asked with mock sincerity. 

“Oh do shut up,” she told him, rolling her eyes. “I merely complain that I always have to work longer hours to keep up with your absurd caseload.”

“And yet _you’ve_ never missed the Slytherin catch-up,” Theo noted with a teasing smile, “and you’ve always got a new conquest to tell us about.” 

“We were talking about Draco,” Pansy redirected smoothly. “You do look better, actually, darling. The bags under your eyes aren’t nearly so visible. The afternoon off seems to have agreed with you.”

“I do not have bags under my eyes!” Draco gasped. “I don’t have bags, do I?” he asked the rest of the table.

Greg squinted at him. “A bit,” he finally decided. 

Draco glared as no one else jumped to his defence. “I hate you all,” he decided.

“No you don’t,” Pansy answered, sounding bored. “Really though, what did you do with your afternoon off?”

“Well, I intended to do some reading,” he told them, “but found myself taking a rather unexpected nap instead, which I was startled out of by my poor dog carer keying into my house! We gave each other quite a fright.” His friends laughed, and Draco went on. “Then, if you’ll believe it, Bartholomew wouldn’t let the poor man leave! He ended up going on the walk with us, even though he could have had the evening to himself if it weren’t for my spoiled child. I’m completely unable to say no to him.”

“That must have been a bit awkward,” Daphne commented.

“Actually, it was rather nice,” Draco confessed. “Harry was very kind about it. He and Bartholomew seem genuinely fond of one another. And he was very easy to talk to; it felt like we’d known each other for ages. He kept up with me with no problem, and you know how people usually are when they first start speaking with me. They always think I’m awful because they don’t understand my humor.”

“That, and you’re genuinely awful,” Pansy opined.

“Cow.”

Pansy narrowed her eyes at him appraisingly. “Was he attractive?” she finally asked.

Draco could feel himself blushing. “What? No!” Pansy gave him a look and he gave an exasperated sigh. “Fine, yes, actually, but what’s that got to do with anything?”

“Nothing,” she said, but her calculating look made Draco nervous, so he quickly changed the topic. 

“So! Greg! Tell me more about this dilapidated nightmare you’ve acquired.” As Greg began to enthusiastically describe the changes he had in mind while once again bemoaning the need to replace the entire foundation of the property, Draco breathed a sigh of relief.

~~~~~▼(´ᴥ`)▼~~~~~ 

“So, I was thinking,” Pansy greeted Draco on Monday when he arrived in the office. 

“Wonderful, that’s why we pay you.” He took a sip of his coffee and sighed happily as the warm beverage began to thaw him from the chill of the morning. “What about, in particular?”

“This Harry of yours.” 

Draco groaned. He knew he should have paid more attention to her insinuations on Friday. “He’s not _my_ Harry,” he said tetchily, “unless you mean ‘mine’ in the sense of ‘my employee.’”

“I’m your employee, too, but that doesn’t stop us from having a relationship outside of the office,” she pointed out innocently before giving him a truly devious smile that sent chills down his spine.

“No. Absolutely not. This is none of your business, and you will drop it immediately,” he instructed.

“I don’t think I will,” she told him, tapping the engraved Cross pen he’d gotten her for Christmas last year against her red lacquered lips. “You haven’t been on a date since Blaise, and you need to get out of the office more anyway. The hours you’ve been working are absurd and unnecessary. You aren’t the only partner here, you know.”

“I’m not, but I _am_ the best of them,” he told her, his tone daring her to disagree. “And anyway, how do you know I haven’t been on any dates?”

“Oh please,” she said, waving him off. “No, I think we’re going to have to give you a few more afternoons off so that you can ‘run into’ him some more.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Draco gasped in alarm. “I’m needed here! And just because he was polite to me doesn’t mean he’d be interested in going out; he was just being friendly because he works for me.” Pansy rolled her eyes dismissively. “ _Leave it,”_ he told her sternly, but the hum she gave him was noncommittal, and Draco had a feeling he hadn’t heard the last of this.

His suspicion was proven right that very Friday, when he once again found a meeting cancelled, this time just a few minutes before its five o’clock start time. 

“Pansy, dear,” he called out to her from his office door. “Do come here for a moment?”

“Yes boss?” Pansy sauntered over and leaned against his open doorway, one stilettoed foot crossed over the other as she gave him an—entirely unconvincing—innocent look.

“You wouldn’t happen to know why the Goodmans cancelled so abruptly, would you?”

“None whatsoever,” she said blithely.

“Is that so? It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with your determination to get me out of the office early to impose on a certain dog carer?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” She gave him a grin. “Will that be all?”

Draco gave an exasperated sigh. “For now,” he told her.

Rubbing his hands down his face, Draco grabbed his phone and opened the SPC app. “ _Hi Harry,”_ he typed, _“I’m sorry for the late notice, but it appears I’ll be home early again this evening. I’ll still pay you, of course, since it’s so last minute, but please take the evening to yourself. Sorry for the bother!”_ He began packing his briefcase, and he had just pulled his trench coat over his shoulders when his phone buzzed.

“ _It’s no problem!”_ came the characteristically cheerful reply, “ _I’m actually already in the neighborhood, though; I’ve been visiting Nev at the nursery, but I should get out of his hair soon. Do you mind if I tag along anyway?”_

Draco dithered for a few moments before finally responding, “ _Of course, you’re more than welcome. I’m sure Bartholomew will be happy to see you.”_

“ _I look forward to seeing the two of you, as well! See you at six, then?”_

“ _See you then.”_ Draco stuck his phone in his pocket, trying to stop a silly smile from spreading across his face. 

~~~~~▼(´ᴥ`)▼~~~~~ 

It happened again the next Thursday. “PANSY,” Draco yelled when he saw the notification that his four PM consultation had been cancelled. 

“Yes?” she asked him innocently, once again leaning on her favorite spot against his door. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Watson?”

“Had something come up,” she finished cheerfully.

“What, exactly, came up?”

Pansy studied her pristinely manicured nails. “I’m sure I don’t know. It’s not my place to ask personal questions of our clients.”

“Did he reschedule?”

“No, I’m afraid not; perhaps he’ll set up a new consultation another time.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at her. He was sure she was doing this on purpose, but it wasn’t like he had any proof. Mr. Mallory was a new client, so he didn’t even have the man’s contact information; Pansy handled that end of things. “Fine,” he finally said, “but I’d better not see any more sudden cancellations any time soon.”

Pansy pushed off from the wall and smirked at him as she turned away. “I don’t have any control over your clients, Draco, I merely schedule them.”

Sighing, Draco grabbed his phone to once again let Harry know that his plans had changed. _“I’ve had another meeting cancelled, so I’ll be able to walk Bartholomew myself again today.”_ He hesitated, then added another sentence before hitting send. _“Don’t feel obligated, but if you’d like to join us again, you’re more than welcome to.”_ He quickly turned his phone’s screen off, took a deep breath, and tried to convince himself that there was nothing untoward about the invitation. It wasn’t as though he had asked the man on a date, he had just… let him know that his company wasn’t unwelcome. He could still say no. Although, given the past two instances, he probably wouldn’t. So really, Draco was just cutting out the part of the conversation where he said Harry didn’t need to come and Harry said he wanted to anyway and then they argued about pay. It was a time saver!

He hadn’t even made it out the door before his instinct was proven right. His phone buzzed in his pocket; Harry had messaged that he’d love to join them, and that he would see them at six. 

Their departure went the same as it had the last time, with Harry meeting Draco and Bartholomew at the door and the three of them heading out, but this time, Draco found himself unable to resist his own curiosity.

“So, if you don’t mind my asking, why do you still come with me and Bartholomew when it isn’t necessary? Not that it isn’t nice,” he added hastily as he glanced at Harry and noticed his small cringe, “just… it doesn’t seem to be about the money, because you know I’ll pay you either way, so I’m just curious. Why do you still make the effort to come out here?”

Harry was quiet for a moment, and then let out a sigh. “Well I’m not coming far,” he answered eventually, “I live over on Grimmauld Place, it’s only a mile or so walk from here. And it definitely isn’t about the money,” he added with a wry laugh, not looking at Draco, “I actually… well, I don’t really need the money at all. I donate it to the local shelter.”

Draco stopped in his tracks. “Wait, really?” he asked, taken aback. 

Harry trudged to a stop and then turned to face Draco, meeting his eyes finally. “Yeah. I’m, er. Rather well off, actually? My parents died when I was quite young, and my father was an only child who came from old money. So, I don’t really need to work at all.” 

Draco nodded thoughtfully, absorbing this, and then began to walk again. “I’m sorry to hear that. About your parents, I mean. I suppose I can relate, though” he told the other man, “at least about the money bit. My parents are also quite wealthy, but I choose to work as well.”

Harry bumped his shoulder against Draco’s, and he sounded more like himself, his voice taking on a sarcastic but teasing tone, when he responded. “Yeah, the mention of your _manor_ clued me in. I’m not sure if I would have told you otherwise, to be honest.”

“Fair enough.” Draco tried to ignore the tingling in his shoulder where Harry had touched him. “So, again, I’m not trying to be rude, I’m genuinely interested: why dog caring?”

Harry seemed to ponder this before responding. “I guess because it gets me out of the house? I don’t see people that much, otherwise. I mentioned my godson when you first messaged to book me, right?” Draco hummed in acknowledgement. “Well, he was also orphaned at a very young age. His father was one of my parents’ best friends, and he helped raise me, so I think making me Teddy’s godfather was sort of… an acknowledgement of that indirect family bond? But he and his wife died when I was only 17, which obviously wasn’t expected, so I ended up with custody of an infant before I’d even finished school.”

“That’s awful,” Draco murmured, genuinely shaken by the level of tragedy in Harry’s life. He placed a tentative hand on Harry’s arm before removing it quickly, unsure if the physical reassurance was welcome. “I’m so sorry.”

Harry gave a half shrug and a soft smile. “Thank you. It was hard, but I wouldn’t trade Teddy for anything. His grandmother and he moved into my house, and she helped me raise him, so I never went to uni or anything, because having a child is really a full time job on its own. And he’s a fantastic kid; I don’t regret it. But last year he went off to boarding school for the first time, and I found myself at a bit of loose ends, with too much time and basically no qualifications. And I’d been pet sitting here and there for friends for a long time anyway, since I was always home with Teddy, so I had a more flexible schedule than most of them. This just seemed to make sense, I guess. I like having a reason to get out and to talk to new people and get a bit of exercise. Andromeda, Teddy’s grandmother, is lovely, but living with a woman who’s old enough to be my mum isn’t quite the same as interacting with people my own age, you know? Once I’m out of the house already, it’s easier to get myself to go see my friends. And I really like Bart.” He paused briefly and then glanced at Draco, giving him a half smile. “And you,” he added.

Draco had been making the appropriate sounds of interest and acknowledgement throughout Harry’s story, adjusting his vague assumptions about the man’s life as he went, but at this, he found himself rather hot around the collar and had to clear his throat. “Well. Thank you. Bartholomew… and I… are fond of you as well. Even if you won’t use his proper name.”

Harry smirked a little. “I’m very glad to hear that.”

~~~~~▼(´ᴥ`)▼~~~~~ 

Much to his later regret, Draco made the mistake of sharing a bit about this most recent meeting with Harry at that week’s Slytherin catch-up. He’d skipped last week’s, but Pansy had been adamant that he join this week and had practically dragged him from his office by the collar. Once he was a couple of rounds in, one of his friends had asked whether he’d seen his dog carer again, and while updating them, he (carelessly, he realized now) told them about the surprising revelation that Harry didn’t even _have_ to work, but simply did so as a social outlet. 

He didn’t think much of sharing the anecdote until he, once again, found a meeting cancelled, conveniently meaning that he would be home by six o’clock. And then it happened again the next week, and the next. There was no pattern to the days, nor the types of meetings, so he had no way of knowing when Pansy was putting fake commitments into his calendar just so that she could cancel them later. He was _positive_ that she was doing so, and had yelled and begged and given her the cold shoulder and threatened to sack her in his attempts to get a confession, but she would admit nothing.

“Pansy, you’re making this look intentional! He’s going to quit!” he growled at her one afternoon when she once again pushed him out the office door. “He’s not interested in me; he just likes my dog, and you’re making it awkward!” Pansy would have none of it, however, and continued to insist that she had nothing to do with the recent spate of cancellations, so he resignedly continued to go on walks with Harry and Bartholomew together once a week. He supposed he should be grateful that Pansy was limiting herself to that, at least. For now, anyway.

By the fifth time, Draco was more than a little embarrassed. “I know I’m starting to look like a stalker, but I promise, I’m not doing this on purpose,” he told Harry when he arrived to join them for their walk. That week, his ‘cancellation’ had happened on a Tuesday. 

“You don’t look like a stalker,” Harry assured him with a grin, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. It was chillier today, and Harry was sporting a leather jacket over his t-shirt. Draco was trying rather hard not to drool, and a tirade against Pansy seemed as good a way as any to distract himself. 

“It’s my manipulative cow of an assistant,” he groused. “She thinks I need to work fewer hours and socialize more. I’m almost positive she’s putting fake appointments in my calendar just to cancel them, but I can’t seem to catch her at it!”

Harry laughed, sounding delighted. “That’s so underhanded!” he snickered. “I think I like your assistant. Manipulating you for your own good.” Draco shot him a glare, but Harry only rolled his eyes before bumping against him affectionately. Draco bumped him back, hard enough to make him stagger a bit, and glared some more. Harry laughed again as he regained his footing. “Don’t look at me like that; you must know that the hours you work are ridiculous. Neville had to come get your key at eight AM, so I’m guessing you aim to get to work no later than nine, and you’re home late enough that you need someone else to walk your dog. Not that I’m complaining!” he rushed as Draco’s scowl became more pronounced. “It’s just that those are really long hours to be working every day, and you’ve already told me that you run with Bart in the mornings, so you have to be getting up absurdly early. You must barely have time to sleep, let alone socialize. It’s no wonder she wants you to go home a bit earlier some days; you must be exhausted.” 

“You really are _very_ nosy,” Draco complained, before sighing and hunching his shoulders a bit. Harry absently patted his slumped back, and Draco tried to ignore the way the skin suddenly tingled. “I suppose it’s a _bit_ much,” he reluctantly agreed. “I didn’t used to be like this. But when Blaise left, I needed a distraction. I didn’t like being in a house without anyone else—well, anyone else human anyway,” he added as Bartholomew tugged energetically at his leash, demanding that he and Harry walk faster so that he could get to the home of the two young sisters who always came outside to fuss over him. “Blaise and I went to school together, so we share a lot of the same friends, and it was awkward to see them much right afterward. So, I buried myself in work, and I guess it’s just… sort of a hard habit to break?”

“Makes sense,” Harry concurred. “Still, must be a bit lonely.”

“Mm,” Draco agreed noncommittally. “I suppose. I’ve been seeing my school friends again, though; Pansy has been very persistent in dragging me along with her. And, of course, I’m seeing rather a lot of you these days,” he said, aiming for a sardonic tone but falling somewhere more toward flirty, he realized, cringing inwardly. Harry was almost definitely going to be uncomfortable now, and Draco didn’t know how to walk it back.

“Well, my thanks to Pansy, then,” Harry returned with a mischievous smile. _Huh,_ Draco thought a bit bemusedly. _That was… not the reaction I expected._ “Actually,” Harry went on, oblivious to Draco’s inner monologue, “if you wouldn’t mind a bit more of my company, how would you feel about me joining you and Bart on your runs some mornings? It would help me get back into practice; I have trouble getting myself out of bed on my own.” He flashed a grin at Draco, and Draco felt himself blushing, as much from the smile as from the likely-unintentionally suggestive phrasing of Harry’s remark. He desperately tried to tamp it down, hoping that Harry would think he was just cold from the brisk breeze.

“Of course,” he heard himself saying before he could even think through what was happening. 

“Great!” Harry answered cheerfully. “Why don’t you give me your cell number? That way I can text before I head over to see if it’s okay that particular morning. I don’t really like using the app for non-work conversations, you know?”

“Yes, right,” Draco answered, taking Harry’s unlocked phone and adding his contact information, only feeling partially in control of his actions. _What was happening??_ He handed the phone back, and then it was done, and Harry quickly changed the topic to something about recent political developments that immediately drew Draco into a lively debate, allowing him no time to really think about the fact that he’d just agreed to spending more time with Harry, and not as an employer. 

As soon as he was safely home, however, he found himself flopping onto his sofa and covering his face in mortification. “Draco Malfoy, what are you _doing?”_ he mumbled into his hands. 

~~~~~▼(´ᴥ`)▼~~~~~ 

And so it was that Harry began joining Draco and Bartholomew for their morning runs. The first time he showed up, sporting tight leggings under a pair of loose shorts and a long-sleeved but VERY fitted athletic top, Draco’s eyes almost fell right out of his head. In addition to the figure-revealing clothes, which Draco found to be rather unfair to begin with, Harry had also pulled his hair back into a messy sort of bun and had foregone his glasses. This had the unfortunate effect of allowing Draco to see just how _very green_ Harry’s eyes were. They were captivating. He thought he might be sick. _This was an awful idea,_ he berated himself once again.

Clearing his throat, he attempted to give a nonchalant greeting, but what came out was “where are your glasses?’

“I don’t wear them to run; they slide off when I get sweaty” Harry answered, stretching casually as the trio prepared to set off. Bartholomew was wagging his tail impatiently, eager to burn off some of his boundless morning energy. “I’ve got contacts in. I just don’t wear them much outside of running or sport; they make my eyes water.”

“Huh,” Draco responded, very intelligently, he thought, considering the fact that Harry was currently bent over stretching his calf muscles and showing off a rather distractingly nice rear end.

The run itself was much easier, thank god; they couldn’t really chat much as they attempted to keep their breathing regular, and Draco couldn’t ogle Harry without tripping over his own feet, so they just jogged along at a moderate pace, Bartholomew happily bounding alongside or ahead of them. By the time they returned to Draco’s home an hour later, they were both enjoying a bit of a runner’s high, and the sight of a euphoric and incredibly sweaty Harry grinning at him, shirt clinging—if possible—even more tightly to his pectorals as he asked if he could join them again later in the week, left Draco feeling distinctly weak in the knees. Still, he managed to agree amiably and then keep himself together until he was inside and in the shower, where he proceeded to wank himself raw and curse the existence of ridiculously attractive and distressingly enthusiastic dog carers. 

Harry ran with Draco and Bartholomew at least twice a week going forward. Once Draco had adjusted enough to keep his blatant eye-fucking of Harry to a minimum, they settled into comfortable, flirtily antagonistic banter during their warm ups and cool downs. Occasionally, Harry would ask for help stretching one muscle or another, and Draco would do his very best not to pass out. Once, when Draco had complained of tightness in his left calf muscle, Harry had offered to massage it for him, at which point Draco had almost swallowed his own tongue before he could manage a polite refusal. Between that and the one evening per week that he still, without fail, _mysteriously_ had a meeting cancelled last minute, Harry was rapidly becoming a very good friend. A very good friend whom Draco wanted to kiss, every day if possible, preferably without any clothes on. 

“I think I really like him,” he lamented to his friends one Friday in early November, staring morosely into his third glass of scotch. Theo, Greg, and Daphne were deep in a conversation of their own, having quickly picked up on the fact that Draco was in a temperamental mood and was therefore unlikely to be very entertaining company.

Pansy snorted derisively. “You think?”

“Cow,” he muttered.

“You’ve been mooning over him for months now,” she said with an exasperated eye roll, “It’s not like it was a secret. Everyone here certainly knows. Don’t you?” she directed toward their companions.

“Don’t we what?” asked Greg, looking over.

“Know that Draco is in love with his dog carer,” Pansy clarified.

“Oh that,” Greg said, sounding unconcerned. Draco’s mouth fell open and he let out an indignant squawk.

Daphne looked at him sympathetically. “You’re not very subtle, darling,” she told him, reaching over to pat his arm. 

Draco looked to Theo, hoping for some support, but the man just shrugged at him. “Sorry.” The trio turned back to their conversation, and Draco slumped, dejectedly dropping his head onto the table.

“I just don’t get why it’s a problem!” Pansy complained. “He obviously likes you, just ask him out already!”

Draco sat back up sharply and glared at her. “First of all, ‘obviously’ nothing; I _told_ you he just likes the excuse to get out of the house, and he’s also completely enamored of Bartholomew. Secondly, he _works_ for me! He could… sue me for harassment, or something!”

Pansy gave a put-upon sigh, downing the last of her wine and signaling for another. “You are a lawyer, for fuck’s sake, you know perfectly well that that isn’t how things work, and also he literally told you he doesn’t need the money. And he’s _voluntarily_ getting up at six in the morning to spend time with you several times a week, which, I might add, _you are not paying him for._ And from what you’ve said, he flirts with you _constantly._ ”

“I… but… that’s just his personality! And… and I still need him to take care of Bartholomew during the day!” Draco answered, after searching for another reason why he obviously couldn’t ask Harry out and finally deciding that this was a reasonable argument. “If I make things awkward, I’ll have to find someone new, and they’re bound to be awful.”

“You are such an idiot, I don’t even know why I care if you’re happy,” Pansy replied.

~~~~~▼(´ᴥ`)▼~~~~~ 

_December 4, 2015_

Draco had the entire day off, and for once, it wasn’t just Pansy being manipulative. They’d wrapped up a massive case the day before—one that had had Draco working long past dark for the past few weeks, even on the weekends. It had actually, finally, forced her to stop cancelling random fake meetings on account of the fact that there were too many real ones. Now, it was Friday, and Pansy had insisted that they both take the day off. Draco hadn’t bothered to put up a fight; they had earned it.

At around six, Harry had texted to ask if he could join him and Bartholomew for their run that morning, and when he saw the message upon awakening several hours later than usual, Draco agreed without a second thought. He apologized for the late response, telling him that they were running later than normal as he’d had a bit of a lie in, but that if Harry wanted to come by in the next hour or so, they’d love his company. 

He’d missed Harry the past few weeks; he’d been going on his runs even earlier than usual so that he could get into the office as quickly as possible, and even Harry apparently wasn’t masochistic enough to get up at five AM if he didn’t absolutely have to. He still texted every few mornings, however, to see if Draco and Bartholomew had managed to return to their normal running schedule. 

He and Draco had also texted occasionally throughout the days whenever Draco had a few moments of quiet, chatting sometimes about Harry’s daytime adventures with Bartholomew, but often about nothing in particular. Harry still sent regular photos of Bartholomew, sometimes with himself in frame making silly faces or posing with the dog, which Draco sometimes replied to with random shots of himself pouting next to piles and piles of paperwork. Still, Draco was so used to seeing the other man three or four times a week that it felt wrong to go so long without talking to him in person.

Draco had come to terms with his unrequited crush, more or less. Despite Pansy’s badgering, he was still sure that asking Harry out would just make everything awkward, and he liked having Harry in his life too much to risk it—even if it was strictly as a friend. So he tried to keep his ogling to a minimum, and allowed their flirty banter and bickering and occasional, seemingly absent-minded touching to continue, refusing to let it lure him into believing it meant anything. Harry was always just as charming with strangers as he was with Draco, albeit without the teasing antagonism, so Draco decided to just try to get used to it. He thought he was doing fairly well, overall. There was very minimal pining, anyway.

Harry showed up half an hour after his text, grinning from ear to ear when Draco opened the door. “It’s good to see you!” he greeted, pulling Draco into a tight, unexpected hug. Draco couldn’t help but grin in return, letting the embrace linger. 

“You too,” he said finally as the other man released him. “Let me just get my shoes on, and we’ll be ready to go.”

It was a cold day, and Bartholomew was wearing one of his sportier jumpers—Draco had expected Harry to tease when it had gotten cold enough for them to be necessary, but Harry had been delighted by the variety Draco had collected over the past year and a half. He apparently got a kick out of deciding which to put on the dog each day before they went out, if the pictures and commentary he continued to send Draco were anything to go by. The run was companionable and calming. It felt good to be running in the daylight and to hear the breathing of another person alongside him. He felt lighter than he had in ages, with yesterday’s victory still fresh and the return of Harry’s easy company. The cold winter air felt wonderful against Draco’s face as his body temperature rose, and he couldn’t remember feeling this content in a long time.

When they got back to the townhouse, Draco felt a little sad that Harry would be parting ways with them now, before he realized abruptly that he didn’t necessarily have to. At least, not right away. Draco didn’t have anywhere he had to be, for once.

“Do you want to come in and have some coffee?” he asked Harry as they stretched their tired muscles. “I feel like we haven’t gotten to talk properly in ages.”

Harry looked extremely pleased at the offer. “I’d love that,” he answered sincerely. “I’ve missed you.” Draco almost thought he might be blushing a bit, but waved it off as the effect of the cold winter air and the exertion of their run.

When they got inside and into the kitchen, Draco took Bartholomew’s jumper off and rubbed him down to ensure he wouldn’t be chilled. When he was done, he looked down at his own sweatiness and grimaced. “I think I’ll get the coffee brewing and then take a shower,” he told Harry. “I am both sweaty and freezing.” Then, realizing that Harry was likely doing no better, he offered, “If you’d like, you can borrow some clothes and do the same. You’re welcome to use the guest bathroom.” 

Harry gave him a mischievous grin and leaned against the kitchen counter. He was rather closer than Draco had realized. “Or we could share,” he countered easily.

Draco’s mind ground to a standstill.

“I… what?” he managed to choke out. “I’m sorry, _what?!_ ” in the back of his mind, he registered that he sounded vaguely hysterical. Harry’s grin immediately dropped from his face.

“Oh. Oh, fuck,” he said, sounding horrified. He straightened and inched backward, eyes wide. “Oh god, I read this completely wrong, didn’t I?” He cursed under his breath. “I should go. I’m so sorry. I thought… it’s just, it really seemed like...Fuck. I’m _really_ sorry. I’ll go.” His face had gone extremely red, and he had stopped looking at Draco directly, instead looking like he’d rather like to sink right through the floorboards. He began to turn, and it was very clear that he was about to bolt.

Snapping back to himself in panic, Draco shot an arm out and grabbed Harry’s wrist before he could completely turn to leave. “No, wait!” he cried. Harry looked at his hand, and then up at Draco’s face. Draco couldn’t read his expression, but he wasn’t pulling away, so he soldiered on. “I was just surprised! I didn’t think you were interested!”

“You didn’t think…” Harry sounded bewildered, but slightly less panicked, at least. “Draco, I’ve been flirting shamelessly with you for almost three months!”

“I thought that was just what you were like!”

Now, Harry just looked disbelieving. “Have you seen me behave with _anyone_ else like I do with you?” he asked. 

Draco let Harry’s arm drop. “Well… no, not exactly. But you’re really friendly with everyone and I just thought— and anyway, you work for me!”

“So, wait. You thought I wasn’t interested in you because I’m friendly and I worked for you. Even though I’m constantly teasing you and touching you and showing up at 6:30 in the morning just to see you. Am I getting that right?”

“Yes?” Draco said, sounding a little unsure even to himself.

“But you… are interested? In me?” Harry looked a bit nervous, but also a bit hopeful.

“I… well, yes. If I’d thought there was a chance… yes.” Draco admitted, feeling very, very exposed. “But even if… it still isn’t ethical. Because of the work thing.”

Harry had begun to smile as Draco babbled, and as he trailed off, the smile turned into a full on grin, and then, to Draco’s bemusement, a laugh.

“Draco, you only booked me through October. I haven’t worked for you for over a month.”

“You… I… shit, really?” Draco suddenly remembered how Harry’s calendar had ended on October 31. He’d intended to extend the booking, of course, but then he and Harry had gone from communicating in the SPC app to texting, and he realized he hadn’t even opened the app in ages. “I am such an asshole,” he murmured to himself. “You’ve been taking care of Bartholomew for free all this time?”

“That’s really not the point I was making,” Harry said, but he sounded amused.

“But why didn’t you say anything?!” Draco demanded. “I’ve been taking advantage for weeks!”

Harry shook his head and looked at Draco fondly. His hands rose to caress Draco’s upper arms, and his trepidation seemed to have melted away completely. “You weren’t taking advantage, you idiot. I would have told you if I wanted to stop, or wanted you to pay. You can make a donation to the rescue you got Bart from if it will make you feel better, but I kept helping because I like Bart, and I like you.” He paused, and then went on, squeezing lightly. “I really, really like you, Draco.”

“His name is Bartholomew,” Draco said automatically. Then, he kissed him.

Harry’s arms immediately shifted to come around Draco’s waist, and Draco registered vaguely that they were both still sweaty and disgusting, but as Harry’s warm, soft lips moved against his, he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Harry deepened the kiss briefly, but then pulled back, leaning his forehead against Draco’s. “You know, I wasn’t entirely kidding about that shower,” he said, voice a bit rough, but also a bit nervous.

Draco closed his eyes and felt the heat of Harry’s body radiating through his clothes and into him. He shivered. He wasn’t normally one to rush things. He usually liked to take his relationships slowly; get to know the person first. But he already knew Harry, didn’t he? They’d spent months getting to know each other. They hadn’t gone on any proper dates, but he knew about Harry’s family and friends, his past, his goals. He knew that he was also addicted to American-style drip coffee, and that although he had a lot of money he didn’t like to spend much of it on himself. He knew that he loved meeting new people, but that he didn’t get close to very many of them. He knew about the nightmares he sometimes had about the car crash his parents had died in. He _knew_ Harry.

And Harry knew him. He knew which cases at work made him feel like he was on top of the world when he won, and which ones ground him down until he didn’t want to get out of bed. He knew about Draco’s friends from school, what they all did and how Draco pretended to be annoyed by them but actually loved them more than anything. He knew about Draco’s complicated relationship with his parents. He knew how to see past Draco’s sharp corners. He knew Draco better than anyone except his closest friends.

They’d already taken it slow, Draco realized, and thought to himself, _you know what? Fuck it._

Opening his eyes again, he grinned at Harry. “Well, I wouldn’t want to waste water. I’m very environmentally conscious, you know." Harry grinned back and, closing the small space between them, kissed him again.

Unlike the previous one, this kiss was intense, hungry. It spoke of a deep yearning rooted in months of verbal foreplay and caused a jolt of excitement to run through Draco’s body, heightening each of his senses. He found his hands at Harry’s hips, pulling the man tightly up against him, their mutual arousal delightfully evident as their hips met. The friction caused both men to gasp, fingers tightening in an effort to draw each other impossibly closer. 

Draco’s hands slid up the small of Harry’s back and lifted the tight, damp shirt just enough for the cool air to tickle Harry’s back, causing goosebumps to rise on his skin. He pulled back for a moment between kisses, wearing his widest grin yet, eyes teasing. “And you’re _quite_ convinced this is ethical?” he asked, his amusement audible even through his breathlessness.

“Oh, quiet, you, and help me get you out of this cursed thing!” Draco’s exasperated tone was belied by his own answering grin as he rolled Harry’s shirt up his body, exposing the taut, sinewy chest he’d imagined vividly over the months. His excitement and impatience were growing with each passing instant, and all he could think of was getting Harry naked as quickly as possible. Obediently, never breaking eye contact with Draco, Harry raised his arms over his head to make it easier for his damp shirt to be stripped from his body.

Stubborn top tossed triumphantly aside, Draco’s hands sought the newly-exposed skin of Harry’s chest almost instinctively—only for Harry to gently remove them and give them a warning squeeze as he shook his head. “Not yet,” he murmured. “Shower first, yeah?”

As achingly turned on as he was, Draco could appreciate Harry’s savoring of this long-anticipated moment. He also knew that if he began touching Harry now, it was fairly unlikely that they would make it as far as the shower. Taking a deep breath, he nodded and stepped back.

For a moment Draco almost forgot that he was, in fact, in his own home and therefore needed to lead the way. When Harry looked at him expectantly, however, Draco snapped out of his distracted stupor and squeezed Harry’s hands in return, leading him hastily to his en suite. As soon as the door had closed, Harry helped Draco out of his own sweat-drenched top, his fingertips slowly and teasingly tracing their way up Draco’s torso. 

Draco thrilled at Harry’s evident desire to take the lead. He clearly enjoyed setting the pace, taking his time to tease Draco as he went, which reinforced in Draco’s mind the idea that he wasn’t the only one who had been dreaming of this. Soon, Harry slid his thumbs underneath his own waistband and slowly began exposing his hips and tight buttocks. He even turned and dipped into a partial squat when his bottoms slid over his thighs, grinning over his shoulder as if to say, “You weren’t as subtle as you think, Mr. Ogling-Me-While-I-Was-Stretching-My-Calves Malfoy.” Draco, transfixed, could only gulp and grope at his own bottoms to quickly remove them with decidedly less finesse than his counterpart.

Harry remained teasingly faced away from Draco in their mutual nudity, still gazing over his shoulder, although he looked a tad unsure. Draco, however, had no complaints as he stared at the taut curvature of the beautiful man’s buttocks, breaking his gaze only to adjust the shower dials. The water heated quickly, filling the bathroom with a cloud of steam that would have fogged Harry’s glasses instantly, had he been wearing them. Draco once again said a grateful prayer to whichever deity ensured that he would be able to watch Harry’s bright, expressive eyes throughout this encounter.

His voice mischievous but with an undertone of apprehension, Harry asked, “Are you sure I’ll fit?”

Draco snorted at the absurd double entendre—given that the shower was clearly big enough for both of them, the horrible joke was obvious—but his snort ended abruptly in a cough when Harry turned and finally exposed himself fully to Draco. The gorgeous man who stood in front of him very visibly shared every bit of Draco’s excitement—and then some. Harry’s cock was long and impressively thick, curved slightly upward as if in a greeting that Draco was, frankly, all too thrilled to meet. It was easily the biggest cock Draco had ever seen in person, and he knew that his wide-eyed expression showed it.

Draco cleared his throat before allowing a hungry smile to spread across his face. “I’m forgiving you that joke,” he informed his companion, “but only in the interest of having that inside me as soon as possible.” 

Harry immediately relaxed, letting go of any uncertainty as he reached out and pulled Draco to him. “Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting. I know how valuable your time is,” he teased. Releasing Draco’s waist, he took his hand instead and pulled him into the shower.

Draco wasted no time, grabbing a bottle of liquid soap and squeezing some directly into his hand before reaching for Harry. He began to explore Harry’s muscular frame with massaging palms and tightening fingers, thrilling at the fact that he could finally _touch_. His hands slid with ease over Harry’s body, once again finding their way to the man’s hips. Unexpectedly, Harry turned around, leaning back into Draco’s chest and turning his head to kiss him softly before forcing a surprised gasp from Draco as he ground his arse against Draco’s agonizingly erect cock. Through what little was left of his mind, Draco mused that it hadn’t been so long ago that he had been standing in this very position, alone, stroking himself to orgasm whilst daydreaming about Harry.

Effortlessly, Harry caught Draco’s erect cock between his muscular inner thighs, the soap running down his body acting as a lubricant as he began to move. Without thinking, Draco responded, and they quickly fell into a surprisingly easy rhythm, causing a delightfully intense pressure as Draco thrust into the tight space. Draco snaked a hand up Harry’s chest and over his clavicle, resting his palm firmly there. Throwing his head back, Harry exposed his soft neck to Draco’s eager lips, which sucked and nibbled at the smooth skin.

The sudden build-up of pleasure precipitated by Harry’s soft moans, combined with the sensation of his own foreskin tugging on his cock between Harry’s thighs, caught Draco by surprise. A ribbon of ejaculate shot from him suddenly as full-body shivers shook him to his core, his entire body tingling in ecstasy. Harry’s own cock jumped excitedly as Draco came. “Fuck that was hot,” Draco heard him mutter over the sound of his own blood rushing through his ears. Turning, Harry pulled Draco into a fiery kiss, muddling Draco’s thoughts even further.

Finally, Harry released his mouth. As he slowly began to come back to himself, Draco saw Harry notice the bottle of lubricant located next to his array of high end shampoos. He vaguely thought that he should perhaps be embarrassed by the evidence of his frequent solo endeavors, but the heated look on Harry’s face quickly put any such thoughts out of his mind. “I really want to fuck you, Draco,” Harry confessed, not yet reaching for the bottle. “Can I?”

The coherence Draco had been attempting to reclaim quickly flew out the window, his cock straightening at the mere suggestion of it. Biting his lower lip, he gave an enthusiastic “mhmm”, the wordless assent all that he could manage at the moment.

Harry let out a pained-sounding groan at this, grabbing and fumbling to open the bottle of lube. As he proceeded to coat his massive cock, Draco forced himself to tear his eyes away, spinning around, stroking himself lightly to extend the small jolts of pleasure still coursing through his body. He was slightly dumbfounded at how aroused he still found himself after having come just moments before. Leaning forward and bending his knees slightly, he gripped the towel rail for support, the steaming water now barely hitting him from around Harry’s shoulders. 

_Harry’s beautiful shoulders_ , he thought, as he looked back over his own shoulder at the other man. They rippled with effort as Harry took firm hold of Draco’s waist, adjusting him until they aligned perfectly. With one hand still at the crease of Draco’s hip, Harry guided the tip of his cock teasingly between his cheeks, eliciting an involuntary whimper.

Freeing both hands temporarily, Harry gathered another handful of lube to slowly and carefully prep Draco with two fingers, exploring and prodding with a visible shudder of anticipation which Draco couldn’t help but mirror. When he evidently deemed him ready, Harry finally guided the tip of his cock to Draco’s hole. Returning his other hand to Draco’s hip crease, gripping him with a combination of care and force that elicited feelings of deep contentment and impatient desire in Draco, Harry buried himself in him with one firm thrust.

Draco felt waves of ecstasy hit him at the sensation. The sounds he could hear coming from himself were something between incredulous, pleading, and delirious; he’d never been fucked by someone nearly as well-endowed as Harry, and each thrust of the man’s curved cock hit his prostate in a way that only his very favorite sex toys had managed before. Never had Draco felt more full, and the intensity of it all was too much to contain as he shocked himself by coming again, despite not even touching himself.

The moans that escaped Draco’s lips at each vigorous thrust, combined with the spasms of his inner muscles as his orgasm gripped him, were apparently more than enough to bring Harry fully over the edge. With a final deep thrust and a tightening grip that threatened to bruise, Harry exploded with a loud groan, coming in long spurts as the tip of his cock pulsed inside Draco. The sounds the pair made formed an impromptu chorus, which quickly gave way to a shared bout of near-hysterical laughter. After all of that build-up, just how unreal—and yet better than reality—this moment had been seemed to have pushed them both past the point of full sanity. As they rode out the final spasms of their pleasure, they pulled slowly apart, Draco turning to capture Harry’s lips in a kiss that was much less desperate but no less satisfying than those that had come before.

Draco reached up behind Harry to free his hair, which was now wet from a combination of sweat and water, from its bun. “We should probably actually clean up now,” he sighed, running his fingers through the tangled mess that he’d been desperate to touch for so many weeks. Harry murmured in agreement, kissing Draco softly once more before reaching for one of the many bottles of shampoo.

Afterward, when they were dry and dressed and curled up on the sofa sipping on their coffee (which was a little burnt tasting from its time on the hotplate whilst Draco and Harry were otherwise occupied), Draco set his mug down on the table with a thunk and said, “Well, shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, immediately concerned. His eyes searched Draco’s face. “You don’t regret it already, do you?”

“No, of course not!” Draco quickly reassured him, and Harry relaxed back with a relieved sigh.

“Well, what is it, then?” he asked.

“I’m going to have to find a new dog carer,” Draco explained, trying to bite back a smirk. “Now that I know I haven’t been paying you, this arrangement is completely unethical.”

Harry glared, before pulling Draco into his side and kissing the side of his head fiercely. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he said, and Draco laughed. From his bed across the room, Bartholomew let out a loud snore.

~~~~~▼(´ᴥ`)▼~~~~~ 

_Epilogue_

_June 5, 2016_

Draco woke with a groan as an enthusiastic greyhound jumped onto his bed and began pestering him into alertness. “Go away,” he grumbled. “It’s my birthday; this is very rude.” He heard a sleepy chuckle from beside him.

“It’s eight o’clock; he’s been very patient,” Harry told him, rolling over to give Draco an affectionate kiss.

“Eugh, stop that. You've got morning breath,” Draco complained. Breathing in, he wrinkled his nose. “Morning _distillery_ breath,” he corrected.

Harry laughed, but rolled back away from him, sitting up and pulling his crumpled jeans off the floor. “Well, whose fault is that?” he asked teasingly. “I wasn’t the one making their boyfriend do shots with him every time one of his friends bought a round.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Draco grumbled, smiling a little. His birthday celebration the night before had gotten fairly raucous near the end, but despite the headache he could feel lurking, he didn’t regret it. One only turned 30 once, after all. All of his school friends had been there, as had most of Harry’s cadre of chosen family. It had taken the two groups some time to warm up to each other in the first few months that Harry and Draco were together, as Harry’s friends were—on the whole—rather more sincere and less prone to using insults as affection than Draco’s, but they all got along rather splendidly these days. Harry wasn’t wrong about the shots, however; Draco’s friends had absolutely been responsible for those particular bad choices. 

“God, I really don’t want to run,” Draco groaned, rolling onto his stomach as he watched Harry retrieve his shirt from the night before, sniff it, grimace, and move toward Draco’s bureau. He spent the night at Draco’s more often than not these days, but seemed to prefer to borrow Draco’s shirts rather than bring his own most of the time if they weren’t going anywhere. Draco wasn’t complaining. His shirts, which all of course fitted him perfectly, were almost obscenely tight on his boyfriend. 

“You don’t have to,” Harry answered, smiling as he pulled a plain black t-shirt over his head, further ruffling his already sleep-mussed hair. “It’s your birthday. I’ll take him out.”

Draco grinned into his pillow. “Hmm. The perks of having a live-in dog carer,” he sighed teasingly.

Harry let out an amused huff. “Except for the fact that I don’t live here,” he retorted with a smile.

Eyes closed, Draco hummed in agreement. “You’ve got a valid point, I must admit. We should probably fix that, shouldn’t we?”

Harry’s shuffling stopped, and Draco opened his eyes to see the other man staring at him. “Are you asking me to move in with you?” he asked, sounding… well, Draco wasn’t sure what, exactly, he sounded like, but it certainly wasn’t disagreeable. He nodded.

“I’ve been meaning to for a while,” he answered softly. Then he smirked. “I know it’s traditional to offer a partner a key at this moment, but technically you’ve had one since before we met.”

Harry let out a bark of laughter, and his face split into a delighted grin. “Well in that case,” he teased, “I suppose it only makes sense, doesn’t it?” His eyes darkened a bit as he observed Draco, stretched out languidly on the bed that would now be _theirs._ Pulling his shirt back over his head, he slid back up the mattress and braced himself over Draco, who turned over to meet his eyes. “I think Bart’s going to have to wait for a bit,” Harry said, his voice dripping with promise, and Draco suddenly didn’t feel all that tired anymore.

_/fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to my amazing spouse, who drafted my smut for me when I expressed my wariness of writing it myself due to the vast majority of my knowledge about cis-M/M sex coming from fanfic. His framework allowed me to write a scene that I’m actually happy with, and also assured me that most fic writers do indeed know what they’re talking about. 
> 
> Thanks also, as always, to my amazing beta reader [Mx_Maneater](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mx_maneater). I wouldn’t trust anyone else with my commas! And, finally, thank you to [acupforslytherin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acupforslytherin) for cheerleading me and suggesting I write a proper outline instead of just a random bulleted list of notes. Turns out that’s actually really helpful.
> 
> November 2020 update: I just did that neurotic thing where I went in and fixed a handful of typos several months later. I promise nothing substantive has changed!
> 
> Comments and kudos are love! If you want, come say hi to me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gallifrey1sburning)!
> 
> * * *
> 
> 🌻 This work is part of Fluff Fest, a Harry Potter-centered fest dedicated to fluffy themes, meet cutes and wholesome vibes.
> 
> If you’ve enjoyed this work, please show love and support to our precious content creators by leaving kudos and comments! 💌
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